


In Winter

by AxlotlAtHeart



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jon Snow (mentioned) - Freeform, Nightmares, Platonic Bed Sharing, Post-season 7, Ramsay Bolton (Mentioned) - Freeform, maybe platonic maybe romantic you decide, season 8 wish list, semi fluffy?, vague mentions of all the stuff that happened to theon and sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 20:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16204799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxlotlAtHeart/pseuds/AxlotlAtHeart
Summary: "In winter we must look after one another, keep each other warm."Theon returns to Winterfell and reunites with an old friend.





	In Winter

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something about Theon and Sansa bringing out each other's inner strengths, but also allowing themselves to be weak now and again, and finding that ability in each other. Hope you enjoy and see the end for more notes.

When the guards had told her that Arya had arrived and left their sight, Sansa had immediately known where her sister would have gone. When Theon did the same only months later, she wished she had been as certain.

She saw him arrive from her window in the Great Keep, on a day so cold that frost gathered on the inner sill, and her fingers lost feeling if she removed her gloves even indoors. His letter still lay on the table by her bed, though it had been received nearly a week before. He had addressed it not to Jon, but to her.

It had been a shock to get it, the last she had heard of him was Jon’s word that he was sailing somewhere off the coast of Dragonstone in search of his sister. She had hoped for his return, but privately she had already mourned and said her unheard farewells. There had been little doubt in her mind that they would never see each other again. It was a blow, but no more than she had been expecting. So when the message came, written to her in a shaky hand saying that he had an army, that he would come soon, she nearly wept in relief. It had been difficult to believe at first.

In the days that had followed, she prepared herself for his arrival. She’d had his room prepared, his old room in the Keep, from when he had lived here. She was unsure about her siblings, but she herself would feel better knowing he was close. His most recent days here had not been the best of memories, she wanted him to feel as at home as possible.  
This arrival felt different, somehow, than when it had been Tyrion, or even Daenerys Targaryen. It was more than anything, like another member of her family returning. Sansa knew Theon. In a strange way she felt that out of all those who remained at Winterfell, she knew him best.

When he finally came, she was in her chambers looking out over the turrets and walls of the castle, observing the yards in the softly blowing snow. Jon was down there, talking with the steward. With his heavy furs pulled up around his shoulders, he almost resembled her father. When she saw the gates open and the single figure enter, she did not at first understand why her brother stood so still and tense. And then he turned, looking around nervously, and she saw his face. Not quite the pinched, grey face she remembered, but closer to the one she had known as a child. That in combination with his hair, the way he held himself…Gods, it was really him.

The two men spoke to each other, Theon with his head bowed and Jon’s voice lowered so that she could not hear, and Sansa had a brief moment of fear that Jon would lash out at him, or that somebody else in the yard saw him for who he was and made their quarrel with him known, but nobody did. Thank the gods Jon had been there to meet him at the gate, and not somebody else. She looked away, only for a brief moment… but when she looked back he had gone. Only her brother stood in the yard with the steward; she scanned all that she could see of the grounds from her window but saw no sign of him. Cursing herself, she rose quickly and made her way down to the yard. How could he have run off? And how could she have missed it? In any case, it would be best if she found him first. She did not like to think what might become of him if some other Northman came across him, wherever he was, and if they recognized him… 

Trying to shake off her concerns, she began her search.

Outside, the snowfall had thickened. Sansa shivered as she crossed the yard. He should not be out here, not in cold like this, she was surprised he hadn’t frozen to death already.

There did not seem to be any kind of disturbance in the demeanors of the people she passed; perhaps they had not seen anyone come in, or at least did not recognize him. Sansa did not like to think what they would do if they unexpectedly came across him here, knowing who he was and what he had done. Or if Bran was the one to find him first, or-her heart gave an unpleasant lurch-Arya. No doubt Arya would kill him on site if she saw him here. With this in mind, Sansa quickened her pace.  
Would he have gone to the Godswood? No…she would have been able to see him enter from her window. She thought of how she had found Arya in the crypts and wondered briefly if he could have gone down there, to pay respects, but they were still so close, there was no way she could have missed him going down there…  
Just as panic was beginning to set in she passed by the Hunter’s Gate, and the small structure along the inner wall caught her eye. The kennels. No…he wouldn’t have. The memories would likely be too painful. But perhaps that was reason enough. It was a hunch, maybe not a good one, but she had a strange feeling…

Though the sounds of barking dogs were long gone, and the place mostly disregarded, Sansa could not prevent feeling a faint chill as she approached the place. Normally she tried to avoid it as much as she could. 

In the doorway she paused, looking down the dim passage. It was even colder in here than in the yard, much colder. Her breath left her in a mist. She could not help remembering the last time she had come in here; the relief and anger and joy filling her all at once when the deed had finished. And the other time, the first time she had found him. She had never asked, had never been told how he had come to be here, or how long he had been here, or what had been done to him. Those thoughts were not ones she allowed to stay in her mind for very long. This place had seen horrors, far more than it ought to have. 

Theon Greyjoy stood at the end of the passage, still as the stone walls themselves. The gate of the cell nearest him stood open, one of his gloved hands firmly gripping the bars. Evidently he was deep in thought. Sansa took a few steps before hesitating, thinking perhaps he would want to be alone. But before she could turn and leave, he heard her steps and turned to face her. 

Neither of them spoke. The only thought she could formulate at first was a question as to whether he was warm enough; his clothes did not look nearly thick enough for the frigid weather, and he wore only a thin grey cloak over it all. There was snow in his hair. 

“Sansa,” he said quietly, a note of surprise in his voice. He had not expected her.  
“You look cold,” were the first words she was able to manage.  
He stood very still, eyeing her uncertainly, as if he was not quite sure she was real. “I’ve been colder,” he eventually said.  
Even his voice sounded different. Calmer. No tightness of fear or panic. Sansa could not help letting her face relax into a smile, and at the same time felt the faint prickle of tears behind her eyes…though not unhappy ones. She thought she saw the corners of his own mouth turn up, just a little. Certain, now, that he was not about to run from her, she walked the length of the dim corridor to meet him at the end, approaching him as carefully as if he were a spooked animal. He looked straight at her, regarding her almost with concern. She hoped suddenly that he had not worried over her wellbeing. Not when she had done so for him so many times over. 

Standing close, Sansa was able to get her first good look at him since he arrived. He looked, she thought, much healthier than she remembered; standing straighter and still. Not quite as thin as he had been before, but reminders of his long torment lingered in his hollow cheeks, the way his eyes darted. There was an intensity in them now when he looked at her that made her wonder yet again if he questioned her appearance, if he thought she could be a figment of his imagination.

“You made it home,” he said softly, “I knew you would.”  
She nodded, “I knew I would, too. Eventually.”  
“And are you…nothing’s happened to you, has it? You’re not…you’re not hurt?”

Sansa smiled, thinking of everything that had happened in the past months, and realizing how much worse it all could have been. The worst was over. Whatever came next…nothing could be worse than anything she had already faced. “No,” she said, “I’m alright. I’m…better.”  
“I’m better too.”  
“You look it. You look well, I’m glad to see that.”  
“And you…you look good. Happy.” 

Happy. It had been a long time since she had felt truly, perfectly happy. But since she had come home, since her sister, her brothers, and now Theon, had come home with her…it came close. There were obstacles, certainly, but it came very close.

A question came to her that made her heart twinge uncomfortably. She was not sure she wanted to know the answer, or that she wanted him to have to tell her, but she would find out eventually, in any case…  
“Theon…your sister, is she-?”  
“Alive. My uncle is dead. She’s the one who sent me north when you told us you needed ships.”

A relief. Sansa had heard little about the ordeal other than that he was trying to save his sister from a cruel uncle, and Theon’s letter only told her he would come to Winterfell with his men, but she had heard nothing about whether the woman had lived, or even been rescued at all.

“Your men came with you?”  
He nodded, “They’ve docked at the Stony Shore. I offered to ride to Winterfell to make further plans with you and your brother.”  
He looked away from her then, and she followed his gaze to where it met the cell door beside him. The hand that clutched the bars trembled slightly as he closed the door again. Where she had found him, she realized. When he had lived here. Thinking about it still made her feel ill, all that he had been put through, the things she knew for certain and everything else she could only guess at. 

“He’s gone, you know. Ramsay.” Still he did not look at her, instead staring straight into the cell.  
“This is where he died. Where I…where I had him executed.”  
She felt Theon’s shoulders stiffen next to her, heard his breath catch. Sansa watched him carefully, but he kept his composure.  
“How?” he asked after a minute. 

She hesitated. Nobody but Jon knew the exact details of what had happened that night. But he deserved to know, as gruesome as it was.  
“Before the battle,” she began carefully, “ he told us all how he’d starved his dogs for days. He said he was going to feed us to them when we lost. But… we didn’t lose.” She glanced over at him and saw his eyes still on the stone wall. He looked calm, so she continued. “He hadn’t been lying. They were starving. We brought him in here when the battle was over…all I had to do was let them out.”  
Theon turned to her very slowly, eyes wide. Part of her almost feared he would be angry with her. That he would think her a monster.  
“Thank you,” he said eventually. “I’m glad it was you…you deserved that.”  
“Do you wish you could have been there?”  
He shuddered visibly. “No. As much as I…as I wanted him dead-I don’t think I could have done it. I couldn’t have looked at him again…”  
She laid a tentative hand on his arm,“I know,” she said, “I did…think of you, though. When I did it. Everything he did to me, to my family, was awful enough, and I’m glad I could be the one to end him. But part of that was your vengeance too. I did it for both of us. Neither of us ever have to suffer by his hand again.”  
Theon opened his mouth to speak, and promptly closed it again. “Good,” he said, “I’m…I’m proud of you. You’ve been braver than I ever could be.”  
“That’s not true. What you did for me-I never thanked you for that. I should have. I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for what you did. That was one of the bravest things anyone had done for me in a long time.”  
He was looking at the ground again. “You don’t have to thank me. I couldn’t let you be hurt anymore, I should never have in the first place. I could have helped you before, but I didn’t, I was a coward, I was always too afraid to do anything…”  
“But you did. In the end you did. And you’re the reason I’m here now.”  
She stepped forward and hugged him, enveloping as much of him as she could in her arms. The fabric of his cloak felt damp and cold. He stood very still at first, heart beat rapidly against her own. Then slowly his own arms wrapped around her shoulders, surprisingly strong and steady against her. But at the same time his touch was gentle. They stood there for a long while, in each other’s warmth, and gradually his heartbeat steadied, and his grip tightened. Sansa remembered him holding her tightly in the snow, as fiercely but tenderly as he held her now, both of them cold and exhausted and afraid. Everything had changed, so, so much.  
When they broke apart, a surprising flash of something like hope stirred in her. The last piece of her still living family was home again, against all odds and expectations. There was in her the slightest possible idea that everything would be alright.  
“Theon?” she said, “I’m glad you came back.”  
He smiled, ever so slightly,“So am I.”

That night she dreamed.  
They were old dreams now, though the familiarity made them no easier to bear. Dreams of cold eyes and rough hands pulling at her flesh. Dreams that made her want to curl in on herself, to hide, to run and run until they faded away. She was sure she must have wept. Even when she wrapped her arms around herself as tight as possible she could feel the hundred cold hands grabbing her, holding her very heart, inside her heart…  
You can’t kill me.  
The words rang true. He was a part of her.  
Sansa  
She wouldn’t listen. Not anymore. She would run, as far away as she could, somewhere those eyes couldn’t see her. In her mind’s eye she saw herself jumping from the battlements again and again, but this time her fall was met not with snow but with shards of metal…  
Sansa!  
The hands had found her again, warm hands tugging at her shoulders. Hadn’t his hands always been cold?  
“Sansa?” Someone was shaking her shoulder, gentler than she had thought. Tears were on her cheeks. She jerked up and her hand met the warm furs of her own bed, the only light a fading candle by her bedside. In the dark she saw no cold, rough hands, only a grey figure standing near her, eyes wide and concerned.  
“Theon?” her heart still raced in her chest. His face was not the one she had dreamed of, but it had still been his hands shaking her…  
“What are you…why are you here? What are you doing?” she heard the panic in her own voice, and all that she could think was that his hands had been on her, that he had come in here to…why? Why him? “What did you do?”  
Theon looked angry with himself. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hushed, “I’m sorry, I could hear you…my room is just across the hall, it sounded like…” he paused, shaking his head, “I thought you were having a nightmare. I was just trying to wake you, I’m sorry if I frightened you…”  
Sansa watched him stand awkwardly at the end of her bed and felt slightly ashamed of herself. Now that the dream had faded she saw only the familiar confines of her own bedchamber, shadows that had no eyes or groping hands. It was only Theon. The man in her dream was gone. He wouldn’t hurt her. The man who had helped her escape the monster, who had kept her warm in the snow and nearly died to do so… that man would never wish her any harm.  
“I should never have come,” he said “I’ll go now. I’m sorry…I’ll go.”  
“No-wait,” she shivered in the night air as she stood and came towards him, “You don’t have to leave. I’m sorry, I panicked. I just…I thought you might be…” he must hate her, for thinking even for a moment that he would try to harm her, stupid thing to think…  
“Please,” she said, “Stay.”  
He was still for a moment, and she was certain he would say no, that he would leave her, but he nodded. He sat on the edge of the bed beside her, looking at her worriedly. Fleetingly the thought came to her that it would take a long while to get back to sleep. She felt wide awake. Outside the darkness was nearly impenetrable. Dawn was still several hours away…  
“It was a dream, wasn’t it?”  
She nodded, looking up at him. He looked right back at her, concern still in his eyes. The feeling of shame returned. “Yes. It’s embarrassing, I know. They’re just dreams, I shouldn’t be…”  
“It’s alright. I get them too.”  
“Of course you do. You would. I’m sorry, I didn’t think-“  
“Don’t be sorry. Please, don’t be. I understand.”  
Sansa shook her head, “You must think I’m a child.”  
“I don’t. I really don’t.”  
“… It’s…it stays with you, doesn’t it? Everything…it stays with you.”  
Theon looked away again. He did not need to ask what she meant. “It does.”  
She took a deep, shuddering breath, “Sometimes…I can’t explain it, but sometimes…it feels like he’s still here. I know he’s dead. I know it’s stupid. But I feel as though he never really left.”  
“I know.”  
“Before I killed him…he told me he could never truly die. That he was a part of me. And he was right. He’s always with me, I can feel him in my body, in my mind, like he’ll be there forever. Sometimes I just want to…I don’t know… tear off my own skin, just so I can get the feeling out of me.” Even now as she sat discussing it with him her skin began to crawl. She felt almost sick.  
“It’s like you’re never free,” said Theon. “I know. Even after I heard he was dead…I couldn’t quite believe it. I would wake up in the mornings and just know this was the day he would find me. That he could look and look and one day he would find me again. Sometimes it’s like I’m stuck in the past. I… I relive things, over and over, until I can’t tell if it’s really happening of not.”  
He seemed to be gazing out at some unseen thing, something in another time and place. He trembled slightly, whether from the cold or something else she was not sure. Cautiously, she laid a hand on his arm. His arm gave a jump, but his eyes were clear when he looked back at her. For the first time she noticed a faint scar that ran down the length of his cheek.  
“I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do to help”  
He gave a small laugh, “You don’t need to help me. I just wanted you to know…you’re not alone. But don’t…don’t feel sorry for me. It’s you who-“ he cut himself off, shaking his head.  
“It’s me who what?” He didn’t answer, “What, Theon?”  
“It’s you who doesn’t deserve this.”  
She sat silent for a long moment, not knowing how to respond.  
“Is that really what you think?” she said finally, “Do you really think you deserve…any of this? You really think you deserved someone like him doing what he did?” She had a vivid memory of him standing across from her in another one of Winterfell’s rooms, thin and unkempt, telling her he had deserved everything that came to him. She remembered agreeing at the time. Now she thought she could not have been more wrong.  
“Do you really think I don’t?”  
“Yes, I do,” she said, “I really, really think you don’t.”  
He seemed almost close to tears, and Sansa wondered if this was the first time anyone had told him what she had. If that was the case, there was no harm in making it all the more clear.  
“Theon,” she said, looking straight at him, “You didn’t deserve what happened to you. I mean that. I don’t care if anyone tells you that you did, I don’t believe it. And I don’t want you believing it, no matter what.”  
He looked away again, seemingly at a loss for words. But she was not finished.  
“That day in the woods. The last time we were together… you said you didn’t want to be forgiven for what you did.”  
“I still don’t,” he said quickly, “I’m not asking anyone to forgive me. I just…I just want to do something good. That’s why I’m here. I know it can’t make up for anything in the past, but if I can help now, if there’s anything I can do-“  
“I know, Theon. But I want you to know… I forgive you. I know Jon told you he did, and I should have too, a long time ago.”  
“Sansa, you don’t have to-“  
“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. It would make me feel better if I knew you knew.”  
Theon shook his head. “You were always so kind,” he said, his voice tight, “Even when we were little, you were so sweet to everybody. Even to me. You never needed to be, it was just your nature. It still is. ”  
Sansa couldn’t help laughing a little. “I wasn’t always kind,” she said, “Arya and I used to be awful to each other, you must remember that.”  
He gave a small smile, “Apart from that. But I meant it. Even after everything you’ve been through, you’re still just…good to people. That’s…a kind of strength not everyone has. You’re so much stronger than you know, Sansa.”  
“I wish I didn’t have to be,” she whispered. She hadn’t intended for all of this to come out, but he was here now, beside her, not mocking her or judging. He understood, more than anyone she knew, what it was like to feel helpless.  
“I just get so tired. Sometimes I wish I could just let it all go. Drop the mask, stop pretending to be strong. But I can’t. You’ve led people before, you know what it’s like. If I let any of them know; the Northern lords, the queen, anyone, if any of them know what goes on in my head, they’ll never listen to me. If they knew I…I was frightened so much of my own dreams…they’ll only see a stupid little girl. That’s all I feel like, sometimes. I don’t feel strong. I don’t feel strong at all.”  
Theon looked hard at her. To her gratitude, she saw no accusation in his expression. Gently, uncertainly, he took her hands in his. For the first time since she’d left home all those years ago, he was not wearing gloves. Even in the dim light the thin scars lacing over his fingers were visible. The hands were warm, though, and she did not pull her own away.  
“Sansa,” he said, looking at her intently, “You’re not stupid, anyone can see that. And you are strong. I know you’re strong. You don’t need to prove that to me, it’s in everything you do, everything I’ve seen you do. It’s there already, it doesn’t matter if they see it or not. And the things you’re telling me…they don’t make me think that you’re weak. I feel it too, I know, I understand what you’re saying. You’re one of the strongest people I know. And you will be alright, I know you will. You’re a survivor.”  
Sansa met his gaze, and for a moment she believed him.  
“You’re strong too,” she whispered, “I hope you know that. I could never have survived the things you did.”  
“And I’m glad you never had to.”  
He hesitated, looking uncertain, and then gently pressed his lips to the top of her head. Automatically she leaned into his touch, coming to rest her head on his shoulder as he put his arm around her. It wasn’t the same as the embrace they had shared earlier that day, now there was something different in the feel of him. She was the one seeking his comfort. He had known suffering, and knew it still as she did. He would never mock her for it.  
The sense of safety and warmth was just beginning to feel almost familiar when he drew his arms away, looking sheepish. She felt slightly awkward herself, now that his touch was gone.  
“You should go back to bed. Try and sleep. I’m sorry if I woke you.”  
“Don’t be. I was just trying to help.”  
He rose with one last squeeze of her hand. She watched him go to the door with a faint feeling of longing. His presence had meant safety, trust. As he left all the warmth seemed to escape the room along with him. In what must have been a burst of madness, she imagined going after him, asking him to stay with her. The mere idea of it made her feel like a small child. She wouldn’t, it would be unkind to bother him again. But she had not asked him to come to her room in the first place, just as she had not asked him to keep her safe through their long journey in the woods, she had not asked him to risk his life for her. He had done it all on his own. If she asked just one more favour of him…  
Once, she told herself firmly, only once, and she followed him to the hall.  
His silhouette was just visible at the end of the hall where his own chamber was . He had just reached the door when she found him. “What’s wrong?,” he whispered, concerned.  
She kept her voice equally quiet, “I’m sorry…I can’t sleep. Can you please come back with me? Will you just …will you stay?”  
For a minute he simply stared at her, and then to her surprise, he nodded.  
The two of them went back to her room as if it was natural, as if they did so every night. Sansa blew out the candle and settled herself under the covers. Theon stood very still at the foot of her bed, watching her closely. “Are you sure?”  
“Yes. Unless you-mind…”  
“It’s alright. I don’t mind at all.”  
Slowly, he crossed to the other side and pulled back the covers to lie down next to her. Sansa lay very still, listening to him breathe, hardly able to believe what she was doing. He did not touch her, but lay on his back with several inches of space between them. It was kind of him not to come too close to her, giving her space, that even in such closeness he presumed nothing. But at that moment she found she craved his warmth. She curled towards him. When she was close, one arm went around her shoulders almost automatically, the other stretching under her head like a pillow.  
“I can be here if you need me…whenever you need me,” he said, “If you ever need help, if you want…to talk, or anything, just tell me. I’ll do what I can.”  
“Thank you. And…I’m here for you, too. If you ever need me, if…if you ever think talking to me would help, you can. You can trust me.”  
“I will. I do.”  
Sansa stole a glance at him, and was relieved to see he did not look embarrassed. Of course, there was no reason to be, she reminded herself. He was simply doing a friend a kind favour, and one she had offered him in return.  
His eyes looked very green in the light. Like the sea. It was a bit of a foolish thought, but she could not help it crossing her mind and sticking itself there. She pulled the covers tighter around her and him both, tucking her head into the crook of his arm. Even though she could still feel his bones sharply through his clothing, there was something about his embrace that felt strong. Secure.  
Soon she heard his breathing grow deep and even, and she slowed her own to match it. In the soft twilight realm between sleep and waking, her father’s words came back to her once again; In winter we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths. Whatever the winter would bring, they had each other. They had different strengths, the both of them. And, she smiled to herself, it seemed keeping each other warm would not be hard.  
That night they slept without dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> So, you have braved my first published fanfic! I'm still getting the hang of this so I'm sorry if it's a piece of shit. (Yes I know the formatting is completely fucked, I have no idea what I'm doing.) But since the Theonsa fandom is so tiny I figured it was about time I threw in my own two cents. Hope you liked my contribution.


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